Krampus Steals Christmas
by Sonanoka21093
Summary: A fun little Christmas story posted perhaps a tad later than it should have been.


**AN: This one was fun. Really enjoyed writing it.**

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Let me tell you a story from long, long ago. 'Bout ol' Krampus, afore he gave up his ways.

"Krampus, Grandpa?"

Now, now. Let ol' granddaddy talk, little 'un. Now, it was the night before Christmas, and all through the hou—

"Grandpa, you told me that one..."

Hush a moment. Let me finish. Now, once upon a time, there was a meaaaan ol' Krampus. Wasn't so much a name as a title. Now, back then, ol' Krampus was a real sour Kram _pus_ , if you know what I mean. ...Okay, I suppose that was a little over your head. Still, wasn't a nice fellow. He saw fit to steal Christmas, he did! ...Ahh, but I guess I'm gettin' ahead of myself, aren't I?

"This is sounding an awful lot like the Grinch, Grandpa..."

Nah, he wasn't like that. 'Least, not like _that_. Ol' Krampus'd eat nails for breakfast — no milk, neither. Grinch was a right di— ...jerk, but his heart was loads bigger, and the 'Whoville' in question was better off, too. Still, a long time ago in a land far, far away... ...Okay, just pulling your leg, kiddo. That one was a joke. Now, don't let nobody tell you Krampus is some kinda saint. Truth be told, he's not very nice even now. Still, y'gotta admire that kinda consistency. Now, I'm gonna tell you the story of how Krampus changed his ways.

Once, a long, long time ago, there was a biiig ol' monster. Ain't like the prissy little things that call themselves monsters these days. No frills or floral patterns. Heck, didn't even wear clothes, really. Y'see, Krampus was a big, furry thing. Kinda like a yeti and a demon got a bit too into the liquor and, well... ...Anyways, before your Ma shuts me up, I'll stop that analogy right there.

"Aww... But you have the best ones!"

I know, I know. It's a gift, really. Still, y'know what Grandpa doesn't like? A cracked skull. So, anyways, ol' Krampus was a bit like a big ol' white yeti, had biiiig ol' horns. Had a penchant for kidnapping naughty kids and beatin' 'em senseless, too.

"Why wouldn't the police stop him?"

Don't be silly. He was practically doin' their job for— Oww, oww! Okay, okay. Don't gotta manhandle an old man. Ain'tcha got spells and the like? No need to hit me with that thing. Ahem... Now, Krampus decided one day, "Graaa! There's not one pure soul in this land, graaa! I'm going to steal Christmas, graaa!" He wasn't happy. Truth be told, he had taken up a side business of stealing presents and replacing them with coal already, as he'd gotten a lickin' from a few angry parents over the years. And, well... Beatin' a kid's harder than doin' the ol' switcheroo, ignoring that one time with the tengu's wolf. Couldn't sit right for a fortnight, no sirree. Anyways, he began concoctin' a big ol' plan. He'd kidnap Saint Nick himself and become the new Santa. Now, nobody really knows how he pulled it off, but they say he used ol' Santa's weakness for milk and cookies against him. Beat him over the head with 'em, I reckon.

"Grandpa, wouldn't it make more sense to just put something to knock him out in them?"

Now, now. None of that fancy schmancy common sense'll do 'round these parts. Your god auntie or whatever the heck she's callin' herself'd have a fit if she saw you say that. 'Sides, the feller ain't the sharpest tool in the shed, so I doubt he'd come up with something like that on his own.

"But she's not my god aunt. She's just Papa's friend. ...And cookies and milk don't make good weapons, either... Mama tried, but they broke."

Right, right. Although, I think your Pa could pull it off if she tried to make cookies — they'll break your teeth either way, knowin' her. Anyways, ol' Krampus put on Santa's outfit, gettin' it all stretched taught and torn in places somethin' fierce. Y'see, he wasn't no fat man, but he was a right giant of a, well, yeti-like child beatin' whatever. Now, he was dumb, be he weren't no rock. He saw that things were off, so he eyed Santa's bare body. Somethin' santa had that he didn't. They were both right wooly, but Santa, well... He had one big thing that ol' Krampus didn't.

"I don't think I like where this is going, Grandpa..."

He had that beard of his. So, he took some sheers and shaved it right off, tyin' it together with a bow. Then he stuck it to his face. Dunno if by magic, glue, magnets or what, but there it hung, though the bow made him look a bit like he'd spin about. He weren't no Saint Nick, but saint...

Uhh...

Ain't... Nick.

Well, anyways, everyone started thinkin' he was the curse goddess dressed up as Santa. Honestly, I'd wonder if youkai all had eye problems, but as it is, I'm not a big fan to begin with. ...Hey, now, don't you start poutin'. I have plenty reason to not be a fan. Not about to lie to ya.

"But we aren't so bad..."

Wha— Hey, hey, hey, don't you start crying, now! Dry them tears. I don't hate you, little 'un. One just took my little girl a long time when she was little. Turned her against me.

"Mom would never do that..."

It weren't your mom. It was, well... A mean ol' ghost. But enough about that. ...I should get back to the story. Now, where was I...

"...You were at the part with shaving Santa."

Yeah. Right, right. Alright, now, with his new beard in tow, he set about makin' Santa's rounds, but instead of givin' out gifts, he took the tree! Every last one.

"That seems extremely unlikely, Grandpa..."

Ain't _that_ many trees in Gensoukyou. Y'see, he stopped much carin' for the outside when they dun forgot him. Mean ol' Krampus always shouted, "Ragh! If they won't believe in me, I won't beat their children bloody no more! Ragh! That'll teach them! Ragh!"

See? Told ya he wasn't too bright.

"But... That doesn't... Who would want that, Grandpa...? ...Wait, why was his angry sound different?"

Well, I can think of a few, but you're plum right. And, uhh... the sound was different 'cause the other one made his throat hurt somethin' fierce. Anyways, let's get back on track. With all the trees he gathered, he wasn't quite sure what to do. Not one was alive, after all. He had a few hundred trees just kinda piled behind his house, and, well... He kinda lived in plain view. Base of ol' Youkai Mountain, if on the snowy side.

"But Youkai Mountain isn't snowy?"

Sure, not on the side people look at, but the other side? I wouldn't be surprised if it were just plain snow. A big ol' pile. Maybe it's where Krampus hid them trees.

"Grandpa, are you making this up?"

...Whatever made ya think that?

"I've been on top of the mountain, and there wasn't any snow even at the tippy top."

But did you look at the other side?

"Well, no...?"

Then I rest my case.

"...But wait, if he just hid the trees under... half a mountain... how did they ever find out?"

Well, Santa did wake up naked and beardless in a cell. Seemed he was arrested for indecent exposure. ...What? ...Okay, stop lookin' at me like that. ...Okay, fine, I made it all up, happy? I just... I didn't really know what else to do. Never really planned to suddenly have a granddaughter as cute as you show up on my porch.

"Why not?"

Well... ...Your pa and me, we don't get along so well anymore. Not since my wife passed away. Was kinda the glue that held the family together, I guess. ...And, well... When she passed, I think Marisa blamed me a bit. She was tryin' to magic her better, and well... ...I was scared. Scared to lose her. Scared about the what-ifs. What'd happen if it went wrong. The way people'd look at your Pa if it did work. Wasn't the good kinda magic. No, wasn't good stuff at all. ...When she passed, well... Marisa ran away. Never heard from her again, 'least not for ten years. Next time I saw her, well... she was all grown up. ...And she was like me. Just like me in the worst ways. And, well... ...I wasn't happy.

Wasn't happy one bit. Didn't want my daughter to be like her old man. Sure, I ain't no witchy thing, but she talked like me, drank like me, fibbed like me, and just... Well, she wasn't exactly what I'd call a good person. And I might've yelled a bit. ...And she might've blown me through a wall or two.

Just... I want to do the stuff I never got to do with her. Tell bad Christmas stories. Make up somethin' silly. ...Make amends me own way, too. I can tell your ma was the whole reason she's here. Wasn't givin' me any sorta happy look. The fact she's outside says a lot. ...Won't listen to me no more, not after all I said. And, well... can't really blame her.

After all, she's just like me.

...Ehh? Why are you...

"Grandpa... You shouldn't cry. You're a big boy, and Papa loves you very much!"

What? She... does?

"Yeah! She's the one that brought us here!"

...She is? ...Then why did she...

"She thinks you're angry at her."

...I'm gonna be right back, you two. Think it's time I had a conversation that's been a long time comin'.

"Good luck, Grandpa!"

Thanks, kiddo. You be a good girl while I'm gone, alright? If you do, you can have all the cake you like.

"Hooray! I'll get to try my stomach out, then!"

...Yeah... You, uhh... ...Yeah, I'll bet you'd like it.

* * *

"Marisa, you out here?" You look around, your breath puffing out into the cold winter air like a ghost.

"Dad?" You turn, finding your daughter with a complex expression on her face. Doesn't look mad or sad or angry. Haven't seen her make a face like that in a long time.

You came running out here, but what do you say? "Hey." Yeah. You should have thought ahead. Can't really use the 'young and reckless' excuse anymore.

"Hey." She's your daughter alright.

"I, uhh..." You trail off, not really sure what to say. "Your kid's..." Just saying the first thing on your mind seems the most wise choice. "...She's a good girl."

"Yeah." She trails off the same. "...She is."

"Reminds me of, well..."

She doesn't let you finish. "Yeah. ...She does, doesn't she?" After a moment, she lets out a bit of an awkward chuckle, giving a half cocked grin. "...It's the dead doll eyes, I'm sure."

You wince. "Marisa, that's in bad taste."

"Sorry." She winces as well. "...Not really sure what to say."

Just then, inspiration strikes, and you decide to meet her grin with one of your own. Meet her joke with one of your own. "...Cold as a witch's tit, ehh?"

"Heh... That's one way to break the ice, old man."


End file.
